Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy
by helianthus0902
Summary: Even though it's basically a law that the Devilles and D'Angelos should be at least 5miles apart after generations long of rivalry, Aziraphale and Crowley ended up being the opposite. They began an unlikely friendship but is it all there is? Our story will contain snippets of their life growing up until the present and their shenanigans and wild car rides. Human!AU Fem!Aziraphale


It was a quiet Tuesday afternoon in Soho and people were going on with their usual business. An old bookshop stood amongst the more modern and stylish establishments. Though the street was bustling with passersby and vehicles honking, the charming shop sort of neutralized the atmosphere despite the oddity of its placement. The signage on top of the front door spelled A.Z. Fell and Co. which was actually a blunder of the artist (Azira Felice wanted it corrected but always forgot to have it changed so in the end, she just let it be.) Another one was placed above the adjacent window which declared that owner had a penchant for collecting antiques and unusual books.

Three years ago, Azira Felice's father gave her the bookshop's deed as a graduation present. It might seem like a very generous and thoughtful present but it was more for Mr. D'Angelo's benefit than his daughter's delight. By giving up its ownership, he could then focus on his own company. The shop was hardly profitable but the sentimental value was priceless. It had been passed down within their clan for generations and it was a family pledge that they would never sell it to anyone no matter what. On who originally built it and what made it so special, no one really remembered. It just was.

Inside the shop, there was the undeniable feeling of coziness and nostalgia due to homely interior and musty scent of old books. The ambiance was friendly and people who had entered got a sense of peace as if an angel was watching over it. The phonograph was playing an old lovely record that added to the serenity of the place. A small backroom which served also as an office was where Azira Felice, or as her parents called her, Aziraphale often spent her time reading when there were no buyers or visitors to attend to. The 25-year old blonde was oblivious to the on-going ways of the world as she contentedly flipped another page while a half-drunk mug of cocoa lay cold on the desk beside her. She loved Jane Austen's works. Many a times, they made her cry.

Half-way through her book, the small bell on the door tinkled announcing that a visitor had entered. She paid it no mind since they could just ring the front desk bell if they needed help or if they were ready to pay for their purchase. Expecting more minutes of peace, Aziraphale was shock when an obnoxious voice called out her name. After years of knowing him, it annoyed her to no end that it seemed Crowley did not have sense of decorum nor understood how manners worked.

"Oi ANGEL?! ANGEL ARE YOU IN? AZIRAPHALE?" The red haired young man shouted while he sauntered around the bookshelves finding his way towards the office.

You see, Anthony J. Crowley, or just Crowley was Aziraphale's friend, her only friend if she were to be honest. Not that she ever admitted that she ever considered him as one. And though their families were sworn enemies, "hereditary enemies" according to her, they somehow ended up being in the same class since preschool until high school and later on in the same university. Even if they were taking different degrees they would still pass each other a lot or that Crowley would somehow be in her dormitories just to bother her. When they finished their schooling, Aziraphale thought that maybe Crowley would decide to settle in Scotland where the main offices of their family business operated. But surprisingly, he stayed in London. To what exactly his job really was, Aziraphale could not figure out. When she first asked about it, he just answered this and that. All she knew was that he was good with computers and cars.

Rolling her eyes, Aziraphale thought that if maybe she remained quiet, he'd just leave. But of course, when it came to Crowley, it never worked. When the tall dark figure was nearing her line of sight, she just let out a deep sigh and prepared herself for a headache that would indeed come whenever she dealt with her 'friend.'

"There you are. Didn't you hear me call?" Crowley said with a slight smirk. He pulled his sunglasses which he only did with her. But elsewhere, even at night, he would still wear those ridiculous shades. They made him more of a massive snob than he already was. Sometimes Aziraphale wondered why he covered his eyes. She would never say it out loud it but they were striking, beautiful even due to their unique color which was amber. Another curious thing regarding his birth added to the fact that no one else in his family was a ginger as far as she knew.

Aziraphale just rolled her grey eyes again and set her book down. She faced Crowley fighting the urge to groan. "Good afternoon to you, Crowley. And yes, I heard you and with your loud voice, I believe even my neighbors were notified." She said sarcastically. The man just cocked his eyebrow.

"What is it now?"

"Didn't you check the text I sent you? 'round 3 hours ago?" He stood with his right foot bearing his most weight, left hand on his hips – a posture that emitted his sassy attitude. Like always, he was dressed in all black save for his inner shirt and his snakeskin dark violet pointed toe shoes. With just one look, you'd immediately see that he was a man of style and surely rich given that he wore designer clothes only.

The blonde just gave him a confused look. Aziraphale had a smart phone, yes but she only used it for emergency. Unlike people her age, she was not into modern methods of communicating. She didn't even have social media accounts or a blog. She didn't understand the significance of people filming their lives or taking pictures of what they eat and where they went and sharing it to the rest of the world. As if those things could contribute to the society. She loved the bell phone installed her shop, old it may be and she loved her privacy. Being a romanticist, there was a part of her that longed still for handwritten notes and poetries instead of those "timeline posts" and what did Crowley call it Meh-meh? Mim? Whatever…

"To answer your question, Anthony, no, I have not read your message. I was busy." She would call him his first name at times just to spite him knowing that he disliked it when people did so.

Crowley hissed at her, "How many times have I told you, ANGEL, it's Crowley! Anyway, what's the purpose of your phone if you're not using it? Need I remind you that we're already in the 21st century? Even my granddad knows how to text. Do you want me to teach you how to use it?"

"Excuse me, sir but I DO know how. But unlike you, I have other things to do than stare at the blasted screen and scroll through so much nonsense. Again, why are you here? Shouldn't you be working or something?" She really wanted to go back to her reading.

"Well, if you must know I'm boss of me so I can do what I want. Which leads me to why I'm here. I need you to come with me."

"wha- what? Where?" Aziraphale was starting to get nervous. Over the years, whenever Crowley took her with him, they always got in trouble. One time, they almost got jailed because of his prank that had gotten too far. Despite this, she did not know why in the end she would find herself on board with his plans. It was as if he had a strange gift of persuasion or more accurately knew how to tempt you that you could not resist. She wondered how many women had he "tempted" and the thought made her uncomfortable.

"So my old man called and apparently, he and the hag (his mother) are organizing a charity ball and I am not exempted. It will be this coming Friday. Ironic if you ask me. They act all magnanimous with their philanthropic deeds but we both know that they're both hell spawns. I don't want to come but they said that if I refuse, they'll burn down my car. And with them, it's never a bluff. You saw what they did to my old flat."

Aziraphale winced at the memory. She could not for the life of her understand why Crowley's parents were so cruel and borderline abusive. But what was more surprising was that he still showed them relative respect and even when he was out of their home for years, he could not deny their orders, given they came rarely. But other children would no longer care especially if they had such upbringing. But not Crowley. Try as he might to say otherwise but deep down, he was really a nice guy. Maybe that was a reason why they became 'friends.' They had money yes but wealth could not buy someone good character. Her parents on the other hands were so loving and supportive that she internally pitied Crowley while growing up.

"If they told you to come, then why are you bringing me? You know members of your family and mine do not mix well! And I don't know if you notice but I'm running a bookshop here!"

"Because if I show up there alone, they'll keep on setting me up with their business partner's daughter or something like that. I'm not a whore that they could pimp." Crowley said with such irritation as he sat on a nearby couch, one leg propped on its arm.

"Oh really, but your clothes say otherwise." Aziraphale said mindlessly. She was itching to light a kettle and make some tea. Crowley just waved off the insult.

"It will just be 3 days."

"Three days. In Edinburgh. I can't. Go find someone else to come with you."

"Well too bad because according to our butler, the book you were dying to get your hands on, the one by Agnes, Agnes Nutshell…"

"AGNES NUTTER!"

"Yeah, right. It's in the estate's library. He located a copy for me. I could have it sent here but you know not without a price." He winked mischievously. _Check mate! _Crowley thought. He already constructed on how he would get his angel to agree. And many times in the past, bribing Aziraphale would always include food, books, sometimes both at the same time. He didn't care how much it costed him. His credit cards had funds. He didn't want anyone else to come with him. He just wanted her.

The young woman was suddenly in a huge dilemma. She really did not want to encounter any of Crowley's nasty relatives. Plus she would leave London on a short notice. But that book was a rare gem. There were only 10 known existing copies because of its limited print. Rumor had it that the book contained hidden prophecies so accurate that it can very well guess when the end of the world would be. But Aziraphale just wanted it for her collection. Even if its price went up to thousands of pounds, she would be willing to pay such amount. After all, her trust fund was still untouched.

As her golden brows scrunched in silent deliberation, she became unaware of her surroundings. Crowley took time that moment to look at her cherubic face. He knew that when she got lost in her thoughts she'd tend to forget where she was. _She's really beautiful. But this idiot has no clue. _At first, he started calling Azira Felice, 'angel' because her name was a mouthful and her last name literally means '_From angel'_. But then he thought it was quite fitting because she looked like one of the heavenly beings of religious tale with her blonde ringlets, grey eyes and kind face. _Ethereal, _as he recalled, was the word best to describe her.

It still left him seething when someone would comment on her weight or the plumpness of her cheeks. These things were what appealed to him most. She was not really fat but her fluffiness promised warm soft hugs that he fantasized about. Lots of times actually. Sadly, there was never an opportunity. He remembered that time when they were younger when he punched a boy who made Aziraphale cry because he called her a cow. The bastard lost 2 front teeth. Though his fist bled, he felt satisfied.

A few seconds later, the young woman sighed deeply with a resigned look on her face. Crowley wanted to laugh. He knew that look. The tip of his mouth was threatening to upturn but schooled his features into a bored one.

"So… what say you?"

Aziraphale looked at him eye-to-eye. "Fine. I would go with you but just this once. But I'm telling you I won't promise to be totally congenial to your family especially those weird cousins of yours." _Hastur and Ligur _the blonde remembered. _"_After the ball you'll hand over the book right away."

"You have my word." Crowley slowly came close to Aziraphale and offered her a hand to strike their deal. He smiled genuinely when the blonde shook his hand in return. She may think that her agreeing caused his bliss but in reality, feeling her soft hand gave him more happiness than her approval.

* * *

A/N: It's been so long since I've uploaded anything and this story just popped in my head after watching the Good Omens twice. I really love their dynamics and affections are there for sure. But they are celestial beings. And according to neil himself, they are genderless despite their designated bodies being male. So I thought to make a human!AU and then I saw a Fem!Aziraphale in IG and I thought why not. This is a fanfiction anyway.

English is not my first language so if there are grammatical errors, pls kindly notify me. I don't have a beta to help me with editing. I'm open to criticisms and suggestions. Your reviews are always welcome. I'm thinking of updating the other two stories I have left just to announce that I'm not dead. *laughs* Have a good life to you all.


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